Come To Jesus Moments

We all have these; the come to Jesus moments when, like Zacchaeus the tax collector (see Luke 19:1-10), we realize that we have been caught in the act and that we are not fooling anyone. These moments are meant to get our attention so we can refocus, and become centered again so we can live righteous and holy lives before our God. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Jesus is watching.

My dog, Theodore, did this. Sometimes he would be outside and forget that I could see him through the windows. He would pee on the lawn instead of the rocks, or steal a sock from the dirty clothes and go outside with his treasure. I was not outside, therefore, I suppose he thought I couldn’t see him. Theodore had a lot of Come to Jesus moments, or rather, a lot of Come to Megan moments. I have a deep sense of justice in me, and I was often swift to deal justice to Theodore when I caught him misbehaving. This probably seems really trite, but there’s another side to this.

God doesn’t just wait for us to screw up and then march us into the throne room to judge us, smack our noses, and tell us to learn to do better; he invites us in.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28)

When it is all too much for you to bear, Come to me. When you are in trouble, when you’ve been caught red-handed, Come to me. When you are confused, burdened by life, and feel lost, Come to me.
When you don’t feel strong enough to take another step, Come to me.

No sofa was too small for Theodore to fit on and snuggle.

After I would execute my version of justice on Theodore, what he wanted most was to be with me. To find comfort in me, to snuggle up, lick my face and hands, and know that I still loved him. This is faithfulness. It's knowing that regardless of what happens in this world and whose fault it is, we can go to Jesus, we can run to God and He will comfort us, and we will find rest for our souls.

I’m not like Theodore. When bad things happen, I don’t always run to Jesus first. That’s why Jesus reminds us to come to him. We need to be reminded that we are loved by him, and that we are not living in this world alone. We suffer in this world. We get worn down from trying to do the right thing. We hurt and we cry. We respond with anger to the grief and shock. But we need this reminder because going back to Jesus is the only way to make it through the mess. If we carry the weight of all our grief and loss around all the time by ourselves, we aren’t going to make it through. It’s hard when we think things should have turned out differently, but that is why we choose to trust God and keep going back to him. To His rest, and His way to doing things. We can't take on Jesus' yoke, unless we take off our own first.

Theodore died at the end of July. He got sick so quickly, and then died from cancer just a week after we had taken him to the vet because we were concerned. For a long time I wrestled with questions and struggled through the whole thing. I felt it was my fault that I didn’t notice his condition earlier. Up until then things had been going pretty well that summer, and suddenly I was slammed against the wall with grief and doubts. Why wasn’t I at the hospital when he passed? Why did God stick us with a huge vet bill when we are finally digging our way out of debt? (Sorry it’s the accountant in me that thinks these things.)

It’s hard to lose our furry, four-legged friends. They nose their way into your heart until they are there in every deep, dark corner. They see and experience you at your darkest. They witness the fights, the reconciliation, the anger, the joy, and all the ugliness and beauty in you, but they still want to be with you. And then, one day, they are gone, and suddenly there is a hole in space and time and sound.

It took weeks to adjust to not hearing his nails clicking on the wood floors anymore or him snoring from our bedroom as I did office work. There was no more barking at the neighborhood kids as they walk home from school by our back fence, or listening to him noisily lap up water after laying out in the sun. Suddenly, I didn’t have to let him out in the morning, see to his food and drink or wipe up the floor after he drooled from one side of the house to the other. My life was simpler, quieter, less distracted; but it’s also emptier.

I was lost, and my burden was heavy.


 And then, one day I came to Matthew 11:28, and I was reminded that Jesus was waiting to comfort me, and give me rest. This was a Come to Jesus moment. Not necessarily because of sin or being caught in the act, but because we live in a fallen world and I was confronted with that in a very troubling way. In my grief I forgot that when we are knocked down by life, our sin, the world, or whatever, God always invites us to come back into his presence and be restored.

The grief of losing a pet is real, and it necessary to mourn and remember them.One day, perhaps I will understand perfectly and see clearly. Perhaps I will have the answers to the questions that plague me about Theodore. Until then, I must always go to Christ. I must trust and hope in the one who conquered death, to give me rest, and raise me to abundant life.

PS. We have gotten a new puppy. Summit is silly and learning how to coordinate his long legs, and apparently loves testing my patience and grace because he doesn't know English yet. He also doesn't know how to sit still for pictures, yet.